2041 The Peoples' United States

by T W Powell

  By 1987, young Stefan Nicolescu and his wife, Ana, had enough. They made a daring escape across the Black Sea to Turkey. From there they made their way to Canada. They lived in the greater Toronto area for a couple of years until they could fulfill their dream of legally immigrating to the United States. Stefan and Ana lived for a few months in the Buffalo, NY area, worked multiple jobs and saved their money.

  Both Stefan and Ana had grown up in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania. Unlike Bobby Ray, young Stefan did read Louis L’Amour. He also watched cowboy movies and TV westerns whenever he could, given the oppressive censorship of the Ceausescu regime.

  As Americans, Stefan and Ana had the right to live wherever they pleased in a vast, young, and free country. They didn’t know a soul in the Big Smoky Valley in Nevada, but they knew there were wide open spaces, rugged mountains, gold, turquoise, and real cowboys. In 1992, Stefan and his now pregnant wife loaded up their used VW bus, rented a pull behind trailer, and headed to Nevada.

  Ana had been a Licensed Practical Nurse in Toronto and Buffalo. When they arrived in Kingston, she got a job driving a Lander County School bus and worked part time as Doc Williams’ assistant.

  Stefan worked in the Shipping & Receiving Department at Round Mountain Gold. He gradually became friends with the drivers for the major parcel delivery companies. Those drivers were constantly pressured by their supervisors to more efficiently service the vast hinterlands of rural Nevada. None of those delivery companies could profitably service rural Nevada.

  One day, while listening to the monotonous bitching and moaning of a couple of those delivery drivers, an idea popped into Stefan’s head. Why not approach the major parcel delivery services with an independent contractor arrangement to service rural Nevada?

  Stefan did his research and put together a business plan. He used his connections with the drivers to get an audience with their management. The numbers spoke for themselves. Within 90 days, Stefan was in business. In addition to his contract with the parcel delivery companies he offered hot shot deliveries of small items to the various mines in central Nevada.

  It wasn’t long until Stefan bought another dependable used van and Ana joined the new venture. Ceausescu’s demise and execution allowed Stefan & Ana to sponsor the immigration of Ana’s recently widowed mother. Granny took care of little John Nicolescu during the week, but Johnny was Daddy’s boy on the weekends.

  Most every weekend, Stefan & Ana had little Johnny up in the Toiyabes hiking, climbing, riding, shooting, and skiing. Ana’s hobby was collecting minerals and gems. She was always on the lookout for petrified wood, fossils, geodes, and gemstones. Stefan’s life-long fascination with the Old West fueled his interest in Indian artifacts. Both hobbies were profitable for Stefan & Ana as Austin was a prime outlet for their finds.

  By the time John was 18, he was an accomplished mountaineer, alpine skier, horseman, marksman, and gemologist. But John needed to prove to himself that he could make it in the outside world. When John told his Dad that he had enlisted in the US Army, he didn’t know what Dad’s reaction would be.

  Stefan hugged his son, “Freedom is not free. It must be defended.”

  He was very proud of Johnny.

  The Army’s treatment of John was completely different from that given to Ike Johnson. John’s skills were quickly identified and utilized. John became an Army Ranger and served two tours of duty in Afghanistan. John was in his element in the dry, rugged Afghan wilderness. After six years, he had nothing left to prove, so he came home.

  John returned to Kingston and joined his Dad in the delivery business. Things went smoothly for the next 8 years, until 2025. When The Great Pacific War began, John was just under the Army’s maximum enlistment age, so he re-enlisted. Once again, the Army recognized John’s experience and expertise and they restored his previous rank of Sergeant. John was posted in Fort Benning, Georgia as a Drill Instructor.

  While John was stationed at Fort Benning, his mother, Ana, was invited to guest lecture at the University of Nevada-Reno. The subject was “Gems, Minerals, and Fossils of Nevada”. Stefan was so very proud of his Ana. She had become a recognized expert on the subject. Stefan was seated on the front row of the Schulich Lecture Hall as Ana began to speak. After the lecture, Stefan was on cloud nine as he and Ana departed the lecture hall and walked off campus to grab a bite to eat.

  Unfortunately, they walked right into the middle of a riot. Businesses were being burned and stores looted. Many of the rioters were not Nevadans. They were outside agitators financed by the PRC and left-wing billionaires. Both Stefan and Ana died there on a Reno, Nevada side street, beaten and raped. As was the case with Darius Johnson, Sr., no arrests were ever made.

  John asked for an immediate hardship discharge which was granted. He came back home and scrambled to pick up the pieces of Stephan & Ana’s parcel delivery service. In addition to leaving a business to John, Stefan & Ana were survived by their horses, Stefan’s black stallion, Midnight, and Ana’s mare, Tona.

  John ran the delivery business until the 2026 Revolution. After the Revolution destroyed that business, John switched gears and made a living selling gems and Indian artifacts to buyers in Austin. From time to time, John would bag an elk or some pronghorn which brought top dollar on the Austin wild game black market.

  One spring day in 2035, John was riding Midnight in Cougar Canyon when he spotted a magnificent wild black mare. He named her Printesa, which means Princess in Romanian. For Midnight and Printesa, it was love at first sight. One year later, Doc Williams delivered Vlad, a magnificent, fiery black stallion.

  The Black Patriot broadcast had just ended as the Jackson gang approached Kingston Canyon. Lookouts alerted the townspeople that the Jacksons were approaching and accompanied by two strangers. As they continued up the Canyon, the townspeople sized up the newcomers. That’s when Darius pulled down his bandana to have a word with Bobby Ray.

  A sharp-eyed youngster tugged on his Mom’s elbow, “Mama, that’s the Black man from the TV and all the posters.”

  The word spread up the Kingston Canyon faster than a roadrunner chasing a rattler. Rambro was in Kingston accompanied by a young White boy. Within minutes flags were waving and the people were cheering.

  Doc Williams welcomed Tom, “Tom, the people are all worked up over the latest Black Patriot broadcast.”

  Tom knew this was Delvin’s work, “Let’s get these people spread out and back to work. All it would take right now is for one Warthog to strafe this Canyon and all these people would be shredded.”

  Then Tom dismounted and whispered to Doc, “Did the Patriot have any special messages?”

  “Yes, he did. He had a special message for Cowboy Tom. He said to tell Junior to slaughter a half dozen Hogs. Does that mean something?”

  “Doc, if you wanted to get to Fallon quickly and undetected, what route would you take?”

  “I’d work my way through the Toiyabes along those old prospector trails, then ride due west to Fallon. That cuts off about a day’s ride and avoids the traffic on US 50 around Austin.”

  “Who’s the best man to guide a team to Fallon?”

  “That’s easy, John Nicholescu.”

  “Is Vet down at the north roadblock?”

  “Should be, I’ll raise him on the walkie.”

  After Doc verified that John was indeed at the north roadblock, Tom and Junior rode out to see him.

  Tom made the introductions as he and Junior dismounted, “John Nicolescu, this here is Darius Johnson. Darius, this is John, call sign ‘Vet’.

  Darius chimed in, “Junior, my friends call me Junior.”

  “John, we’ve been assigned an important mission. Can’t give you all the details, but we need to neutralize those damned Warthogs and Apaches.”

  “Sure do, that high tension wire trick might catch an Apache, but it ain’t going to snare a Hog.”

  “That’s why we’re talking right now. I need your expertise.”

  “Go ahe
ad, I’m listening.”

  “We have confirmed six Warthogs are sitting on the tarmac over at Top Gun.”

  “I’m surprised The Collective has managed to keep those ancient Hogs operational. Catching ‘em on the ground is the ticket.”

  “I need you to lead a Strike Team due west through the Toiyabes and take out those ground attack assets. It should be a small team. We haven’t men to spare.”

  “A small team will be better, harder to detect.”

  “Agreed. Maybe just three men. You, Junior, and Bobby Ray.”

  “Junior is great choice, but can the kid hack it? I don’t care what that Black con artist on the radio says, can the boy handle himself?”

  Junior broke his silence, “John, his entire family is gone. The radio broadcast was a little dramatic, but I saw Bobby Ray take out two Militiamen with nothing but a slingshot. He’s tough and committed. Most of all, he’ll follow orders.”

  John paused for a moment, then recalled how he felt when his parents were murdered, “I’ll trust you on this Darius, but this is likely a one-way ticket. It will be sheer luck if we get those Hogs, but coming through this alive, I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Vet then turned back to Tom, “OK, I’m in. When do we leave?”

  “At dawn, but we need to go see a man about some IEDs. We need to see Ray.”

  The three men rode up the canyon to Ray’s temporary shop.

  “Ray, I need a dozen IEDs by dawn.”

  “Glad to see you’re not in a rush. OK, Thomas, just what do you boys want to blow up?”

  “Some Warthogs. Weren’t you an aircraft mechanic down at Groom Lake?

  “Yep, for 13 years.”

  “How would you go about it?”

  “That depends. Do you want to blow them to smithereens, or just render them inoperable for a while?”

  “I’d like smithereens, but inoperable will do.”

  “The easiest way to screw up a Warthog is to toss an IED into one of those two big turbofans on the ass end. The only problem is you might end up getting blown to smithereens along with the Hog from secondary explosions.

  “I’ve got a little bit of that C4 left over from the other night. I could augment that with some diesel and ammonium nitrate and maybe some aluminum powder and shavings. It won’t be high explosive, but it will burn hot and should screw up those turbofans. The timers are another matter. How many bombs do you need?”

  “We have six confirmed targets. So, I’d like to have a dozen bombs.”

  “That means a dozen fuses. Let’s say a burn time of about 10 seconds. It might come down to using actual fuses. Light ‘em and toss ‘em.”

  “Like I said, I need them by dawn.”

  The Toiyabes and Beyond

  At dawn the following morning, Tom, Doc Williams, Junior, and Bobby Ray met at the Aid Station. A crowd of townspeople began gathering, sensing something was up. That’s when John Nicolescu galloped up on Vlad.

  Thomas Jackson fancied himself a good judge of horseflesh and he was, “John, where in the world did you find this magnificent beast?”

  John gave Tom the short version of Vlad’s origins, “His name is Vlad, the greatest Romanian hero.”

  Junior whispered to Bobby Ray, “Glad I’m not riding that black demon.”

  Vlad was snorting with fire in his eyes when Adam Jackson walked over and stroked his withers, “It’s OK, Vlad. You’re a good boy.”

  Vlad the demon suddenly became Vlad the pussycat.

  John was amazed, “Son, anyone else would be missing some fingers by now. No one touches Vlad except me. Count yourself honored.”

  Ray finally arrived, pushing a wheelbarrow up to the Aid Station, “Good morning, ladies.”

  Tom asked a direct question, “Have you got ‘em?

  “I’ve got a dozen softball sized IEDs. I had some blasting caps and fuse locked up in that explosives locker. You’ll need to light them and toss them. The fuse should burn for 10 seconds, but this ain’t rocket science. If one of these goes off in your hand, you may never play the violin again. Get rid of them fast. Take two lighters each. Once you toss these babies, run like Jim Brown on that Dirty Dozen movie show.”

  Everyone in town was now milling about the Aid Station, so Thomas decided the people should know, “Folks, by now you all know that Lance Corporal Darius Johnson and his friend, The Skipper, have joined us here in Kingston. They will be departing in a few minutes on a critical mission. They are going to hunt down and blow up the aircraft that have been blowing this town to hell and dropping nerve gas. John Nicolescu has volunteered to guide them to their objective.”

  Junior, Bobby Ray, and John shook everyone’s hand, mounted up, and hit the trail.

  As the trio was just about out of sight, Tom called out, “Hey you two hoodlums, don’t forget to bring back my horses.

  Just a couple of miles up the Canyon, Kingston Creek had been impounded to form a small lake, Groves Lake.

  “Whoa Vlad, let’s stop here for a few minutes and water the horses and stretch our legs. You better button up your jacket Bobby Ray, we’ll be knee deep in snow about a half mile further up the trail.”

  Junior was chuckling, “You’re going to freeze your skinny Georgia ass off.”

  Bobby Ray was not amused.

  After the trio passed Groves Lake, they hung a left into Straight Canyon. After another half mile, the snow was literally knee deep.

  “We need to walk the horses from here until we come down into Porter Canyon on the other side. Don’t worry Bobby Ray, we’ll be down and out of the snow in another couple of miles, about an hour.”

  John knew the mountains and an hour later they were down in Porter Canyon and out of the snow, “OK men, let’s haul ass due west. We’ll camp tonight in White Rock Canyon over on Campbell Creek. There’s plenty of water, grass, firewood, and some old mining shacks over there.”

  One of those abandoned shacks had a stone hearth and Bobby Ray quickly got a fire going. The Strike Team had a good night’s sleep as did Vlad, Buttermilk, and Petunia.

  The following morning, the Team was riding further westward at dawn. By mid-morning they hit US 50 at Middlegate. They were now riding due west, following the old Pony Express Trail. To avoid detection, they kept mostly out of sight from US 50. By late afternoon they reached the Sand Springs Pony Express Station ruins and camped for the night amid those ruins. There was plenty of grass around the springs for the horses. The water was somewhat sulfurous, but it was wet. They kept their fire low and out of sight from the main road. The three men needed their rest. Tomorrow would be a big day.

  Max

  Jo wasn’t going to lay around the Field Hospital another minute. She had things to do. As she was getting dressed, the Doctors and Nurses were giving her hell. That went in one ear and out the other. She filled her canteen, grabbed some rations, and borrowed a bicycle. Her trusty Colt was in her jacket pocket. She never left home without it.

  It didn’t take Jo long to reach the I-64/Mountain Parkway interchange. She hid her bicycle in the brush along the I-64 right of way. After a short walk through a springtime pasture, Jo stumbled upon a platoon of the 3rd Kentucky Volunteers camped in the front of a single-wide house trailer. Nearby, she spied a freshly dug grave under a large maple tree. A large German Shepherd was lying on the grave.

  “Lady, I wouldn’t get any closer to that grave. That Shepherd won’t let anybody get close. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t drink. He just lays there whimpering.”

  “Thanks for the heads up, Sweet Pea. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to the mean old bastard who lived in this trailer, would you?”

  The entire squad broke out laughing, “Mean old bastard ain’t the half of it. He killed three Militiamen before they got him. Any man that tough deserved a decent burial. We just burned that Collective trash.”

  Jo took a few steps toward the grave. The Shepherd sat up and bared his teeth.

  “Take it easy Sweet Pea, I’m not going to hurt
you.”

  Jo took a couple of more steps forward. The dog was sniffing the air. He then inched toward Jo, sniffing as he approached. Finally, the dog was face-to-face with Jo. He sniffed a little more, then sat back on his haunches with his head cocked. Jo slowly reached out and petted the dog on the head. He licked Jo’s hand. An ID tag hung from his leather collar.

  “So Max is your name? How about something to eat?” Jo treated Max with some beef jerky.

  Jo turned to walk away only to discover that she now had a shadow. Max was close at her side. Josephine Parker had just lost a father but had made a new best friend.

  Top Gun

  “Rise and shine, ladies.” Vet was up at first light and ready to hit the trail.

  “We should reach Grimes Point about noon. There’s always a lot of tourist activity over there, so we’ll make camp at an abandoned bentonite clay mine just to the east of Grimes Point. There’s a couple of old office trailers and a big shed where we can hole up.

  “Junior, probably best if you remain at camp while Bobby Ray and I go to Grimes Point and check out Top Gun.”

  True to John’s calculations, the Team was nearing Fallon by noon. Once they arrived at the abandoned mine, Junior busied himself cleaning up inside an old office trailer. This mine had been an open pit operation. The mine reclamation plan included the transformation of one of the pits into a small lake that provided plenty of water and a little grass for the horses.

  While Junior was setting up camp, Vet & The Skipper rode over to Grimes Point. After hitching Vlad & Petunia to a cottonwood, they blended into the crowd of soon to be indoctrinated schoolchildren and their teachers. From the Grimes Point lookout, they had a clear view of the old Fallon Naval Air Station, just a couple of miles to the southwest. Vet pulled out his field glasses and casually surveyed the airfield.

  Vet whispered to Bobby Ray, “There they are, but not six Warthogs. There’s four Hogs and two Apaches sitting on the tarmac out front of that large hangar.”

  “Lemme see.” Bobby Ray was grabbing at Vet’s binoculars like a spoiled brat.